


A Night To Remember

by tronnorwolfstar



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Blond Kun, M/M, Multi, Murder Mystery, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-10-21 17:34:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20697377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tronnorwolfstar/pseuds/tronnorwolfstar
Summary: “What’s your friend’s name?” Youngho questioned, quizzing the boy to see if he was whom he was waiting for.“Dong Sicheng,” he answered, looking up at Youngho for a split second, but soon avoided his gaze once more. If Youngho had of blinked right at that moment, he surely would have missed it.“And your name?”“Qian Kun.” He mumbled almost sleepily.“So you’re Qian Kun?” This was the third person Youngho was waiting for. Kun nodded absentmindedly, his dark eyes searching for something to his right.~~~Where Kun and Johnny meet, but not under the most ideal circumstances





	1. Chapter One

Gangnam, South Korea, 1988.

The droning of sirens of an ambulance echoed its way down a main road in Gangnam, turning off at a side street, waking the citizens of the nearby apartment buildings, at the quiet, early hour of 2 am. Doors slammed shut and wheels of a stretcher rattled over the cobblestone road, followed by a haunting gasp.

There were drunks and high teens scattered throughout the alleyways, and a semi-sober man, about the age of twenty-one, was sitting in the gutter, clutching a phone from a booth in his clammy hand, whilst heaving his guts up and his back turned to the scene. The paramedics of the ambulance immediately stopped in their tracks and called the police, completely cold and void of colour in their faces.

In minutes, more deafening whining of sirens followed where the ambulance was called to. The police cars and vans screeched to a halt, the commotion finally bringing the residents of the area to peek their heads out of doors that were marginally opened and windows cracked ajar. Everyone was curious as to what was happening at such an ungodly hour of the morning. More slamming of vehicle doors and shining lights from torches filled the dark alleyway, scattering those lurking stumbling drunkenly in the shadows; all except the man in the gutter with the white telephone, surrounded by his own stomach fluids.

Within the hour, the area was surrounded by police tape, and older members of the public creeping out of their homes to see what the fuss was about. Their eyes were met with the scattered body of what was presumed to be a girl, probably in her early twenties.

A tall, black haired officer emerged from his police car, followed by an older slightly taller officer with brunet hair, and slowly, cautiously, approach the man hunched over on the side of the narrow road. The darker haired man touched his shoulder; the sick man jumped half a foot into the air and landed on his feet.

The black haired officer, almost as muscular as the other man, puffed up his chest as though he was challenging the drunk man to a fight, but stood protectively behind the other man.

The drunk man had light brown hair, flecked with blond highlights, and he stood shorter than both officers did, but not by too much. He was about the same age as the brunette officer, but certainly not the black haired officer. The shorter man’s eyes were blood shot, make up cracked on his face from the saliva dribbled down his chin and dried on his neck, his no longer expensive clothing stained by his own vomit. The reason for his vomiting had nothing to do with the fact he had been drinking, but from the scarring discovery he had made on his journey back to his apartment.

“I honestly just found her like that! I couldn’t have done that to anyone!” The man wailed in desperation. “You have to believe me –”

The brunet officer put his hand on the crazed man’s shoulder in an attempt to calm him. “Of course we believe you,” he said in a smooth alto-like voice. “We just need you to answer some of our questions.”

The man’s breathing was fast, looking as though he could have an anxiety attack at any second; he was on edge. His eye movement was rapid, glancing about with extreme caution. However, he nods, closing his eyes and slowly steadying his breaths.

The brunet officer pulled the man lightly, one arm around his shoulders protectively, his opposite hand clutching the arm closest to him, and led him to a police car. He opened the door of the vehicle, making the shorter man sit sideways on the seat so he could face him, his hands now on each of his arms as he crouched in front of the red-eyed man.

“I am Detective Inspector Jung Jaehyun,” the voice was soothing to anyone’s ears. “And this is Detective Inspector Seo Youngho,” he gestured to the older man behind him, knowing exactly where the other was standing. “Are you able to give us your name?”

The man sitting on the car seat was completely lulled by the man crouched in front of him, he almost answered him immediately. “I’m Dong Sicheng.”

“Your age and occupation?”

“I’m twenty-one and I’m a student.” Sicheng’s eyes were not meeting Jaehyun’s, but staring at his own lap.

“Where were you headed at the time when you found the girl?”

This question made Sicheng hesitate. No matter how soothing Jaehyun’s voice was to his ears, he was still reluctant to tell a detective that he had been drinking to the point of almost blacking-out. Sicheng soon got over this worry, but still not looking Jaehyun in the eyes.

“I was … heading home from the club.” He spoke truthfully, and both Youngho and Jaehyun heard the sincerity in his voice. “And … and then I saw … blood … everywhere.” Sicheng visibly shuddered. “There was so much.” His body was shaking. “I thought I was just that drunk, but then I saw … her …”

Youngho looked deeply into his eyes. “Who? Who did you see?” His voice was not as soothing as Jaehyun’s, but it did not seem to make anything worse.

Sicheng finally looked up and stared into Youngho’s eyes, the emotion in his eyes heartbreaking, coupling with his ruined demeanour. “Yuyan. Although it wasn’t Yuyan, you know? She’d been ripped apart!”

Sicheng finally broke down into body shaking sobs, tears streaming down his face, gasping for air that seemed almost non-existent. He pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms around them, feeling extremely distraught and vulnerable.

“She was my best mate’s sister.” He choked out, almost inaudible.

Jaehyun looked pityingly upon to poor boy breaking down in front of him. He did not want to force him to talk to them anymore, but he needed to. Jaehyun thought of ways he could make him feel even marginally better, and an idea popped into his head.

“Do you have any friends that live near here?” He asked, trying to make his already calm tone almost dream-like.

Sicheng nodded shakily.

“What are their names?”

Sicheng’s eyes widened slightly. “… Jungwoo … Yuta … and …” He choked out a sob and looked straight into Jaehyun’s eyes. “… K-Kun.”

Jaehyun thought for a bit. Could this Kun be related to Yuyan in any way? “… Do you know their phone numbers?”

Sicheng nodded again, reciting their numbers, with an almost guilty and reluctant tone, as Youngho quickly jotted the numbers down and headed for the telephone booth a little way up the alleyway. The remains of Yuyan had now been collected and put into a body bag to be taken back to be checked out, but the blood had yet to be cleaned. A detective was scouting the area; his faded peach coloured hair reflecting bright in the floodlights, contrasting with the dark trench coat and black, straight-legged suit pants and patterned dress shirt. He was Lee Taeyong, and he was the head detective; the man in charge of this section.

Youngho quickly reached the phone booth, pulling out his notepad with the numbers provided by Sicheng.

Yuta and Jungwoo turned up together. Their height differences were not the only contrast to the pair; Yuta was short in stature, with pink hair, and a developing scowl sweeping over his features. He was definitely older than both Sicheng and Jungwoo, but not by too much. His true emotions seemed to be masked by his unapproachable look, but it was obvious that he cared very much about Sicheng.

Jungwoo was almost the complete opposite, with bright orange hair and younger, softer, innocent features. His, most probably, usually very bright appearance was taken over by a concerned one, betraying his external image. It was as if something dark was hidden inside him for too long, and it had finally surfaced, with no way of hiding.

Both boys mimicked each other’s appearance, dressed in tracksuits, which were most likely their sleepwear. The two were probably in too much panic to even register their attire, but it was not as if anyone was going to judge them, considering the situation at hand. Youngho pointed in the direction of the police car, which held an almost hysterical Sicheng and a honey-voiced Jaehyun.

Just minutes later, a blond haired boy, clad in an oversized violet jumper and dark slacks that loosely fitted to his legs. His whole appearance seemed almost virginal; his deep caramel eyes wide open, his skin a smooth pale colour, and his arms were wrapped around himself, as though he were either comforting himself or he was trying to keep his body warmth inside his large hoodie, and the chilling nip in the air out.

Youngho, unknowing of if this boy was another one of Sicheng’s friends, stayed in his place, watching the angelic boy as he gracefully, but tentatively, made his way over to the crime scene. He was headed in the general direction of Youngho, although he was not facing him. It was as though he was too embarrassed to approach anyone, but regardless, he did.

“Um,” he started, as soon as he reached Youngho, staying a polite distance away from him. Youngho could hear a slight accent in his voice. “I was meant to meet a friend of mine here?” He stated this as though it were a question; as though he was uncertain of himself.

Up close, the boy was much shorter than he, even shorter than Yuta was. It was obvious that the boy was younger than him, but the man’s voice reminded Youngho of a puppy; clear of worries, and as pure as a young child, although with the correct measure of maturity. It was as though it could have been playful in the correct environment, but considering the circumstances, it was suited.

“What’s your friend’s name?” Youngho questioned, quizzing the boy to see if he was whom he was waiting for.

“Dong Sicheng,” he answered, looking up at Youngho for a split second, but soon avoided his gaze once more. If Youngho had of blinked right at that moment, he surely would have missed it.

“And your name?”

“Qian Kun.” He mumbled almost sleepily.

“So you’re Qian Kun?” This was the third person Youngho was waiting for. Kun nodded absentmindedly, his dark eyes searching for something to his right. “Okay. He’s this way …”

Youngho gestured to where he was looking, and as he slowly strolled slightly past him, he reached out with his other hand, placing it on his upper back as though he was guiding him. Kun did not even flinch or turn back; there was no uncertainty about the action, nor were there any questions asked.

Youngho stood next to Kun when we reached the car in which Sicheng was crying. Jungwoo was talking to him, attempting to stop his flowing tears and slow his rapid breathing, while Yuta silently crouched next to him, holding Sicheng’s hand.

Sicheng looked up when he sensed people approach, and upon seeing Kun, he launched himself out of the seat and attacked him with a large, heartfelt embrace. Youngho had only let his hand drop from Kun’s back seconds before. Sicheng held Kun in his embrace, sobbing into his shoulder. Kun, seemingly calm, wrapped his arms around Sicheng in an attempt to calm him, occasionally glancing at Youngho questioningly.

“Kunnie,” Sicheng gasped out. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry –”

Kun reached his hand up to stroke the back of Sicheng’s neck, shushing him. “It’s okay.”

“No, Kun. It isn’t okay.” Sicheng forced himself out of Kun’s arms and placed his face in his hands, before looking back up at him. “Yuyan, she –” Sicheng was unable to finish his sentence.

Kun tried reaching out to Sicheng, but Sicheng shoved his hands away from him, only to grab onto them. “Chengie …”

“Kun … Yuyan; she,” Sicheng swallowed more of his tears so he could speak relatively clearly, “she was murdered!” Sicheng choked, coming to terms with what had happened and collapsed on the floor, clutching at Kun’s ankle loosely.

Kun’s eyes went blank. No emotion was displayed on his face, even at this news. It all felt surreal; completely fake, and Kun did not feel as though he had a response, other than, “no she wasn’t. She’s at home.”

Sicheng did not reply, but his sobs had ceased as he looked up at his best friend, tears still pouring down his face and his cheeks puffy and red, as he sported a distraught expression at the fact that Kun doesn’t believe him. He had no way of responding to Kun’s ignorance. Sicheng’s mouth opened and closed, resembling a fish out of water.

Youngho reached his hand out to lightly cup Kun’s shoulder. “We asked him questions before you arrived, and this was the same information that he provided for Jaehyun and me.” Youngho tilted his head sceptically. “Although, we still had to take the body to be analysed. Then we can reveal her identity.”

Sicheng shook his head sadly staring at his hands helplessly.

“But,” Youngho continued, “it was pretty evident that your friend Sicheng wasn’t lying to us.” Youngho addressed Kun. “Was Yuyan someone of importance to you, Kun?”

“She is my sister.” Kun confirmed Jaehyun’s suspicions, the young man putting emphasis on the present tense in his statement. “My younger sister. We live together; I left her at the house, asleep, to come here.”

Jaehyun spoke up. “Did you see her before you left?”

“Well … no, but –”

“We can’t say anything for certain yet, so optimism is your best friend right now.” Jaehyun looked sombre, “But it could also be your worst enemy. Keep your friends close, and let yourself rely on others. All of you.”

Jaehyun slapped Youngho on his back once and gestured with his thumb to behind him, where the car was.

“We’ll let you know if there are any updates you should know about. Let’s go, Seo.”

Youngho froze before reaching into the back pocket of his pants, pulling out what looked to be a business card. He held it out to whoever would take it. “My work number, in case of any new information. Please, feel free to call at any time.”

Yuta took the card, as no one else went to, glancing at it before shoving it in his pocket.

Jaehyun turned on his heels and walked off in the opposite direction of where the others were, Youngho hesitating before following Jaehyun to the vehicle. Youngho’s hand hovered over the handle of the car door, and he thought deeply to himself. His emotions confused, Youngho glanced back at the ethereal boy, his blond hair bounced animatedly about his face. If Sicheng were correct about Kun’s sister being the murder victim, how would the boy’s good-natured persona change? Youngho averted his eyes back to the vehicle door, and planted himself down in the passenger seat, next to Jaehyun who had his hands on the steering wheel.

“You keep looking at the guy … Kun was his name?” Jaehyun stated as they backed out of the narrow street. “You can’t show too much emotional connection, you know. It is unprofessional. 

So, I hope it is all just an illusion to me, and I am overthinking the situation. Am I right to think that way, Johnny?”

Youngho stared at his lap. He knew what he was supposed to say, but was that the truth?

“Of course, Sir.” Youngho reluctantly conformed to Jaehyun’s authority.

Jaehyun glanced over at Youngho briefly before replacing his eyes onto the street light-lit road.  
“Johnny, you can call me Jaehyun. I won’t take offence; we’re friends, are we not?”

Youngho laughed breathily. “Of course, Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun smiled to himself, and they continued down the midnight coloured road.


	2. Chapter 2

“Kun, it was her. I am one-hundred percent sure –“

“Sicheng, I don’t want to hear it.”

“Kun, maybe you should listen to him –“

“Yuta-hyung, please. Not the time.”

“Kunnie –“

Kun imploded, “Jungwoo! Please! I don’t want you guys saying these things about my sister!”

The three boys halted their opinions to watch as Kun clutched at his head, his eyes clamped shut and he crouched, curling into himself. Yuta moved to go over to him, but Jungwoo beat him to it, crouching next to him. Jungwoo gathered Kun in his arms, forcing Kun’s head into his chest to help regulate his breathing.

After a while, Kun finally spoke. “I want to go home. Right now.”

Yuta nodded, hiding his heartbroken spirit, and Jungwoo guided Kun to his feet to lead him to Yuta’s car. Yuta helped Sicheng into the vehicle.

Once arriving at the apartment in which Kun lived with his little sister, he threw open the door of the passenger seat and bolted to his front door. Kun ferociously knocked on the door, mentally begging with closed eyes for his baby sister, who he cherished, to open the door and yell at him for waking her up.

However, the door did not open; Yuyan had not answered.

Kun struggled with his keys to unlock the door, his hands trembling with unwanted anticipation, mixed with adrenaline. He finally got the door open, not even waiting for the other boys who were following anxiously.

“Yuyan!” Kun yelled out for her.

When there was no answer, Kun glared at the staircase for a split second before he bowled over to it, tripping over his own feet in the process as he clambered desperately up the stairs, using the railing as a sort of support. He calmed himself when he saw the closed door of his sister’s bedroom, indicating to him that she was in fact just asleep. He hastily walked over to the door, knocking a little too apprehensively, as there was still no reply from the younger girl.

Kun’s body trembled as he slowly and reluctantly reached for the door handle. Grasping the knob of the door, he twisted it, his breathing irregular and shallow, and his eyes sealed tightly closed. The door opened and he peeked through squinted eyes to reveal an empty room. His eyes widened and, unaccepting of the news Sicheng had provided earlier, he charged into Yuyan’s bedroom, flinging open wardrobe doors, convinced she was just messing with him.

“Yuyan!” Kun called out for the nth time. “Please, this is important!” He paused to listen for noises, but nothing. “This isn’t the time for jokes!”

Jungwoo stood in the doorway, his head tilted in sympathy for the small, blonde boy frantically searching for his sister. “… Kun …”

“Shush, Woo.” Kun roughly pushed past Jungwoo to get to his own room, hoping to find the girl there.  
Kun continued searching in various places throughout the apartment, but to no avail, as Yuyan was nowhere to be found.

Kun’s knees finally gave out and he collapsed to the ground, tears streaming down his cheeks, but his face remained emotionless. That was until Sicheng crouched next to the boy and hauled him into his arms, and it was as though a dam had broken. His sobs racked through his body; so powerful, he was almost gagging from the force.

The boys remained silent, as the small, celestial being was broken down into no more than a mere human, broken, his face crumpled and stained with the salty water of his tears mixed with mucus. His cheeks had changed from a slight blush to a violent shade of red from the warmth and saltiness of the tears, his eyes swollen, and his mouth dragged down into an ugly grimace, uncontrollably dribbling saliva. The sight was heartbreaking, and the boys around him were either holding their tears or crying along with him.

It seemed to Yuta that Kun had finally recognised that the murder victim was most likely Yuyan.  
It was a while before Kun calmed to just quiet sobs, his face wiped clean by a tissue in Sicheng’s hand. Yuta breathed in, as though he were about to talk but was immediately glared at by Jungwoo. After a moment, Yuta decided to ignore Jungwoo’s discouragement, and coughed to gain attention from Kun.

“The detective gave me his card just in case we needed him, so …” Yuta pulled the card out of his back pocket, glanced at it dejectedly before passing to Kun, the blonde’s small hands weakly extended to receive the card. “I’m giving it to you, ‘cause it seems like you’ll need him more than we will.”

Kun barely mumbled a thank you, clutching the card in his palm, bringing it to his chest as he attempted to curl into himself as a sort of comfort in Sicheng’s arms. Yuta’s cheeks flushed slightly with embarrassment and turned his head away.

Surprising the three boys, Kun jumped out of Sicheng’s arms, cuddling his own legs as he wrapped his arms around his knees, shuffling away from Sicheng to create distance between them.

Sicheng was startled. “Kun …”

Kun’s eyes were wide, as though he had even startled himself with his own actions.

“I- I can’t- I’m sorry I- I don’t-” Kun stuttered, his rapid eyes moving around the room but not meeting anyone’s eyes, afraid of the guilt steadily bubbling up in the pit of his stomach and threatening to overflow with fresh emotion that he wasn’t prepared for.

Jungwoo stepped forward, in the direction of the boy curled up into himself, but Kun visibly flinched away and Jungwoo froze in his advance. The look of pity upon the small boy only made Kun feel worse. As though he was submerged in a large expanse of water, trapped beneath the surface. He wanted to free himself; to move or to swim up, but that was above him, as was the water’s surface, and he could not. It was like there was a glass barrier at the water’s surface, distorting his vision, and he slowly drowned, his lungs filling with water, weighing him down. The best he could think to do was avoid the situation.

“Please, just-” he barely managed. He was trying to have them stop with the patronizing and condescending looks. “I need … I need some time …” he was hoping they understood, because he did not want to offend them. They were only trying to care for him.

Yuta nodded, as well as Sicheng, regardless of the urge to coddle him. Jungwoo, influenced by the older two, nodded reluctantly, still wanting to stay with his closest friend through his distress. Sicheng slowly got to his feet, not realising how cramped they were, bent at awkward angles on the floor. Jungwoo stroked Kun’s shoulder goodbye, smiling sympathetically at his as they walked hesitantly out of the apartment, slowly closing the door behind them.  
Kun was sprawled limply on the floorboards, helpless to the world, only wishing to see his sister again; that she would burst out of her wardrobe and announce that it was all a trick, and that his friends were in on it too.

Kun’s small fingers tightened around an object in his hand, and with a glance down, he saw it was the detective’s business card. Youngho was his name? Kun caught himself staring for a prolonged moment in silence, waiting.

Youngho’s eyes were trained to his notepad, the ordered scattering of numbers from the three boys he had met as well as their names placed beside each of them, his vision gliding over each and landing on a specific number; Kun’s. It was unknown to Youngho why his slight fascination with the boy’s radiance was so significant.

The boy’s very presence was otherworldly and it almost made Youngho uncomfortable, but Jaehyun’s words made a large impact on his thought processes, as he believed anything remotely inappropriate regarding his clients, such as his supposed ‘feelings’ towards Kun, was wrong and unprofessional. However, regardless of all of this, Youngho could not stop his mind from wishing he could see the smaller man again. He could not deny that he wanted Kun to call him, despite for professional reasons.

“Johnny, stop tapping.” A deep, male voice demanded. Despite the man’s words, his tone was kind hearted and fond.

Youngho looked up at Taeyong, his superior and close friend; his fingers froze above the surface of his desk next to his notepad. “Sorry, Tae,” and Youngho replaced his eyes back to his notepad.

Unknown to Youngho, Taeyong’s head tilted, analysing the man’s actions. He slowly made his way around the back of Youngho to peer over his shoulder at the object that had been occupying him. All Taeyong could observe was three different phone numbers, and that made him frown, concerned.

“Hey, what’s up?” Taeyong placed a soft hand on Youngho’s shoulder, startling the younger boy for a moment.

“Honestly, Tae, I don’t know.” Youngho squeezed his eyes shut as he pinched the bridge of his nose, his main wish was simply to lie down and sleep everything off. “Just tired and confused, I guess.”

Taeyong wracked his brain. “What’s confusing you?”

Youngho did not expect another question from Taeyong, as he did not exactly respond truthfully beforehand. How was he supposed to talk to him about what was bothering him?

“Well, what sort of person would actually think to do what happened to the girl? What sort of mental illness or state of mind would they have to be in to commit such a horrible murder?”

Youngho did not exactly lie to Taeyong when he asked these questions, as they were the general thoughts thrown around recently.

Taeyong was not surprised the boy had asked him this, but he still felt there was something else he was not sharing. However, he was not going to pry since he obviously did not want to share.

“We have all been thinking the same things, Johnny. It’s not exactly a normal thought process, is it?”

Youngho shook his head, not meeting Taeyong’s eyes. He was seeing double of everything; everything was blurry and unfocused.

Taeyong stood observing the man in front of him for a little longer before speaking again. “The results are back for the identification of the girl.”

Youngho’s vision cleared, his pupils refocusing on the man in front of him and his eyes wide in expectation.

“What does it say?” Youngho asked incredulously.

Taeyong sucked in some air. “The results were correct by what the witness’ reported.”

Youngho felt himself deflate. “So that means …”

“The girl’s name is Qian Yuyan, biologically related to the witnesses’ friend, Qian Kun.”

Youngho’s hands tensed, clenching around the edge of his desk, which he was at first unknowingly grasping.

“Her age is unclear from the results, and the weapon used against her is unknown, but that is all we could gather from the current results.”

Youngho nodded his head, his eyes shifting to his notepad once again, speculating without knowing what he was speculating. “Should … I should …”

“Yes,” Taeyong confirmed, hiding his smirk. “You should inform this Qian Kun.”

Youngho nodded, turned away from Taeyong and squeezed his eyes tight shut in reluctance to his duties.

“Please, break it to him lightly.” Taeyong looked almost concerned. “He looked rather … fragile. We aren’t sure how he would react to this sort of news, whether he accepts it or not.”

Youngho muttered an, “of course, Tae,” before he reached for his phone. Youngho had the urge to object to Taeyong’s words, disbelieving that Qian Kun was ‘fragile’; Youngho thought he looked quite strong, considering his circumstance.

Holding the object in the long fingers of his right hand, he went to grab his notepad full of mobile numbers, when the phone abruptly lit up. Vibrations sent subtle shocks up his forearm, and he looked down to see ‘Unknown Number’ as well as the phone number, which looked uncannily familiar.

Kun’s fingers moved without consolidating his mind, dialling the number on the business card, not exactly knowing what he was expecting from any of the detectives. Maybe confirmation? Affirmation?

Regardless of the reason, the mobile continues to ring another four times before there was an answer.

“Hello, Detective Inspector Seo Youngho, speaking?” the youthful voice spoke at the end of the line.

Kun froze in his spot on the floor, his phone clutched between both of his clammy hands. His face felt dirty from the tears and mucus dried on his face, his mouth still wet from the overproduction of saliva; he felt like a complete mess. But he couldn’t speak. Not only did he not know what to say, he could not even utter a choked word. He sat, legs sprawled out on the floorboards. He sobbed helplessly, but there were no tears. He could not find the energy to cry anymore.

“Is everything okay?” the boys’ voice finally spoke again, after what felt like an eternity. It brought a kind of comfort, maybe a distraction, to Kun.

“Yes. I mean- no.” Kun managed, his tone higher than normal. “I don’t- don’t know-”

“S-sir?” Youngho stuttered over his words. “Could you please tell me your name? Everything will be okay-”

“But it won’t,” Kun interrupted, “will it?”

There was a lengthy pause on the other end, until an obvious sharp inhale of air was heard. “Please, Sir, I need your name …”

“Q-Qian Kun.”

Another pause, but Kun could hear the scratching of pen and paper through the phone’s speaker, as Youngho managed to coax Kun into providing his address.

“Thank you … Kun. I will come to your location shortly. Would you rather if it were another officer? Or would you like myself as well as another officer?”

Kun slowly took in some air to sooth the raging beast in his gut. “Maybe– just you, please.”

“Of course, sir. I will be there in a maximum of twenty minutes, please refrain from doing or moving anywhere potentially harmful.”

Kun nodded, regardless of knowing the officer could not see his inaudible confirmation. The detective took the silence as an agreement, and abruptly hung up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading <3
> 
> Follow my twt: @happyliljimin


	3. Chapter 3

Kun was not sure of how he was meant to feel; was he relieved, or did this simply contribute to his anxiousness? He settled for neither. He felt empty. Void of feeling, both physically and emotionally.

He rose, stumbling from the numb feeling in his lead-filled legs, and slowly glided over to his second hand couch on a cloud. Kun was not counting, but the arrival of the detective was seemingly taking an eternity. He did not know why he was anticipating it, whether he wanted him to come sooner or not at all, but his thoughts were interrupted by oscillating ringing of his doorbell.

Opening the door, the officer’s young eyes immediately pierced Kun. He was dressed formally but casually; black jeans, a white button-down shirt and a warm coat, and he held his notepad, clipped to a small clipboard with a blue pen.

After a long moment, the detective blinked himself out of his trance, extending his hand to the smaller boy in front of him. “Hello, I’m Detective Inspector Seo Youngho.”

“Qian Kun.” Kun croaked as he shook hands with Youngho. “Please, come in.”

Youngho stepped through the doorway, somewhat tentatively, and Kun closed the door behind him. Kun limply held out his arm to gesture his way to the lounge room, back to the couch. They sat, Youngho at a polite distance from Kun at the other end of the couch to him. Youngho sat somewhat uncomfortably while Kun crossed his legs; he brought his knees up to hug himself. Youngho thought he was the smallest grown man he had ever seen.

“So,” Youngho began. “We have been given the results for the body, and this information is available for you, if you want me to tell you.”

Kun’s eyes froze on a spot on the floor and began slowly rocking back and forth. “Yes, please.” he said quietly.

Youngho was not sure if he really should share the information with Kun, seeing how sensitive he was right now. However, regardless, it was his job. “The body has been identified as female,” he tested the waters. “The method of murder is not yet known, nor is the age.”

“Is it my sister, though?” Frankly, Kun’s statement was rather blunt, but truthfully, he did not want to know.

“The name of the victim,” Youngho complied with Kun’s demands, “is Qian Yuyan.”

Whether this was news to him, Kun did not react as Youngho would have thought; his rocking had stopped, but his eyes were trained to the floor, his pupils small and distant. After a long moment, Kun nodded his head, blinking his eyes, and turned his head to focus on the young detective. All Youngho saw in his eyes was emptiness.

“I don’t really know … how to feel. Or what to feel.” Kun finally spoke. Youngho’s heart clenched, but his eyes were only trained to Kun, he could not look away.

Kun leaned down into his hands, cradling his head, massaging his temples and scalp. Youngho found his arm acting on its’ own accord, as it reached out to the man next to him in an attempt to comfort; his hand rested on Kun’s back. The muscles in Kun’s back tightened at the sudden feeling, and he slowly sat up. Silently, Kun shifted across the couch, closer to Youngho, who did not know what he should do, but his hand remained, comforting.

Kun leaned into the young detective, wrapping his arms around the taller and leaning his head on his shoulder, and squeezed him almost tightly. Kun’s breathing steadied when Youngho hesitantly wrapped his second arm around the smaller boy, Youngho’s heart was rapidly beating. Youngho rested head chin on the crown of Kun’s head, and they remained silent, apart from the leveled breaths of the two.

Youngho thought he was just doing his job, but a small part of him knew it was unprofessional. Regardless of this fact, Youngho did not seem to care, nor did he want to care, as he felt content in the elder’s embrace. Youngho shared his warmth with Kun, which brought a temporary source of comfort to the elder.

“You don’t need to focus on that.” Youngho said, not knowing why he was saying it.

Kun shifted, taking his head off the younger boy’s shoulder, and looked up at him, his arms not moving from their position. “What should I focus on, then?”

Youngho thought for a moment, not looking at Kun, who he could feel watching him very closely, literally and figuratively. “Just focus on breathing, okay?”

Kun did not answer him, but replaced his head onto Youngho’s shoulder. Youngho could hear him breathing again. He heard Kun softly sigh as his deep breaths evened out. The two boys stayed like this for a good while before Kun realised how inappropriate it was, thought that Youngho probably did not even care; this was just all part of his job. Youngho’s hand smoothed out the stressed muscles surrounding Kun’s spine.

The two did not know how long they had stayed like that, but Youngho could see that it was dark outside from between the window shutters, and Kun was asleep in his arms. Youngho did not know what to do. He did not know if he should stay with Kun, or if he should leave him here; his job was telling him to go, but his conscience was telling him to stay. Youngho slowly maneuvered so he would not wake Kun, and he tentatively lay Kun down onto the couch to sleep more comfortably. He stood awkwardly in the living room, not knowing what to do with himself. Youngho reached for his notepad and scribbled out a note to leave for Kun when he woke up, telling him to contact Youngho when he is ready and they can talk about the incident.

Youngho placed the note down on the coffee table and crept back towards the front door, slowly and quietly so he would not wake Kun, knowing that he needed rest. He closed the front door and took a deep breath, and then he walked back to his car, the evening air clean in his lungs, which soothed him. Sitting down in the driver’s seat, all he could think about was Kun and how fragile he seemed, yet so strong. Youngho wanted to both admire him and protect him; his feelings were confused.

He leaned his head against the steering wheel for a prolonged moment, then retracted, immediately starting the car and taking off. His eyes flickered up to the rear view mirror to have a last glance at Kun’s house before it disappeared from sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter, but thank you for reading <3
> 
> Follow my twt: @happyliljimin

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, please let me know if there's anything that needs fixing or something to work on. I'll try my best to make it better <3


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